


To See Its Truth

by BlossomsintheMist



Series: Steve/Tony Kinktober 2017 [12]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Tony, Bottom Tony Stark, Comfort Sex, Crying During Sex, Dom Tony, Dom Tony Stark, Dominant Bottom, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Dom, Gentle Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mention of switching, Multiple Orgasms, Riding, Sexual Content, Sub Steve, Sub Steve Rogers, Top Steve, Top Steve Rogers, mention of food and eating, submissive top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 20:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12464876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: “There’ll be time for me after this,” Tony told him.  The heavy ache, the drag and fullness and wet, was making his cock hard again, so that he could feel it bobbing under his shirt.  The fabric felt sweaty, sticking to his back and chest and nipples.  “I’ll probably only come once, after all.  Just let me make you feel good, champ.”Written for Day Fourteen of Kinktober: Role Reversal.





	To See Its Truth

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of went out on a limb a bit with this one - the role reversal I used was to have the partner bottoming physically (Tony, in this case) be more dominant and in charge of the encounter, while the partner penetrating him physically (Steve) is more passive and submissive.
> 
> “Sometimes it is harder to accede to a thing than it is to see its truth.”  
> ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations

It hadn’t taken Tony long after his relationship with Steve got off the ground to realize that Steve just really, really loved sex.  It seemed almost obvious, the physicality of it, how he could just throw himself into the pleasure, eyes bright and eager and the way he would practically glow with it once he got really into it, skin flushed, body radiating warmth, and an easy grin softening his features like he couldn’t imagine anything better just then, like he was fully in that moment and feeling so good.  Tony loved seeing him like that, so happy, relishing every bit of the pleasure his sensitive nerve endings and perfect, serum-enhanced body could and did bring him.  Sure, there were things Steve didn’t like, but it didn’t have to be elaborate for Steve to absolutely love it—if it made him feel good, it made him feel good, and when he said he didn’t need anything fancy, he meant it, because he enjoyed the straightforward act just as much.  It wasn’t like he was addicted to it or anything, could go without and not seem to miss it too much, never pressured Tony for it and hardly even asked, but he enjoyed it so much that Tony found himself loving it more than ever, loving seeing Steve so happy, bright and smiling with his pleasure, that he could make him so happy.  He’d never been with anyone who just flat enjoyed the act as much as Steve did. 

It took him a while, though, to put two and two together, and realize that if sex just flat made Steve feel that good, that it could also help make him feel good when he, well, when he didn’t.  Steve had bad days, more of them than most, sometimes, when he was brooding and stoic and sullenly quiet, when Tony could see him rubbing at his arms like he was cold, and he’d look at old photographs, or go out on patrol for others, or go to the Veterans’ Association, or go to the gym and put together more and more elaborate workouts until even he was sweating.  Not that he didn’t do those things when he was feeling all right, too, but there was a different quality to how he did it when he was down, like there was ice, sharp and cutting, just under his skin, like he was clenching his fists and forcing himself despite the way it sliced into him all the same, left him numbed and aching, the way Tony could see Steve’s jaw clenching and clenching, and the tight muscles of his shoulders, his arms, his back, like everything was being winched tight, compressed by a massive weight on his shoulders that would have sent anyone else, anyone weaker, to their knees by now.

That was what Steve had just finished doing, pushing himself so a workout so intense Tony was wincing just watching him, so intense that even he was dripping with sweat, moving like his muscles felt watery and tired and stretched out with that not-quite ache that meant you’d feel it later (though Steve clearly wouldn’t feel it as much as Tony did, Tony wasn’t even sure if he got sore the same way, though he knew he could feel pain in his muscles, tightness or strain).  Tony had come down to check on him, after realizing he hadn’t seen him since breakfast, and he already recognized the signs—the way Steve’s smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes as he grinned shortly at Tony and headed for the showers, the far-away look there, at the back of his eyes, the tight clench of his knuckles, showing white as he unwrapped them.  Steve ducked into the showers, head going down and shoulders slumping, and Tony sat there, lifting a few light weights, and thought, planning out how to handle that and the rest of their night.

Steve didn’t take long in the shower; he almost never did, even when Tony could tell he wanted to luxuriate in the warmth and water pressure, like someone was timing him. He stepped out of the showers, toweling his hair dry, and gave Tony a questioning look.  “Hey, mister,” he said.  “Were you waiting for me?”

Tony set down the weight, crossed the room to set his hands on Steve’s shoulders, lean in and give him a kiss.  Steve sighed, opened his mouth, leaned into it.  Tony could see his eyes flutter closed.  “I’m always waiting for you, sugar plum,” he murmured, nibbling along Steve’s jaw.

That brought a smile to Steve’s lips, at least, though Tony could feel how tight his shoulders were under his hands, so tense they felt like blocks of marble, a statue of Steve. He laughed a little.  “Seriously, though, Tony,” he said.  “Did you need something?”

Oh, Steve, Tony thought with a pang.  As if Tony had come down here just to shove another burden onto those wide, strong, tired shoulders, ask him to do something else.

“I didn’t need anything, Winghead, no,” he said, giving Steve’s cheek a wet little brush with his open mouth, “but I was _hoping_ you’d grace me with your company upstairs.”

“Oh,” Steve said, and blinked a little.  A sigh escaped him, then, and a little pink flushed up over his cheeks.  “Oh, yeah, sure,” he said.  “If you want to, that’d be fine with me.”

“I do want to,” Tony told him.  “Very much.” He slid a hand down Steve’s arm, took his big, warm hand and squeezed.  “Let’s go upstairs.  You don’t have a patrol tonight?  Any further obligations?”

“Uh,” Steve said. “No, I mean.  I’m free.”

Tony smiled at that, looped his fingers into Steve’s belt-loops and tugged him in, until they were hip to hip, rolling them up against Steve in a way that he hoped gave Steve a very good idea of what he was thinking about, feeling the warm bulge of the half-hard erection Steve was already sporting (he almost always got one from working out, or at least a bit of one) harden against him, and pressed another warm, lingering kiss into his lips.  Steve made a soft noise, his lips parting, lashes fluttering over his eyes then staying closed, and he leaned into the kiss, hands moving up to settle softly, almost tentatively, on Tony’s waist as he tilted his head for it, breathing raggedly against Tony’s lips.  When Tony pulled away, he left his eyes closed, breathing slowly, a little unsteady.  “Okay, big boy,” he said, pressing his nose, his lips in against Steve’s cheek. “Let’s take this upstairs.”

In Tony’s bedroom (they almost always used Tony’s bedroom, with the luxurious bed and the big windows, Steve always said he liked it there, in Tony’s space, and who was Tony to argue, when he wanted Steve there just as much), it was easy to push Steve down onto the end of the bed.  Tony moved to straddle him, pulling his tie off and throwing it over the chair beside the bed and unfastening his first button.

“Good shot,” Steve said, reaching up, his hands softly skimming over Tony’s ass through his slacks. His face was soft, still with that little furrow between his brows, but his jaw was loosening, his lashes soft over his eyes, his cheeks.

Tony waggled his eyebrows at him, reaching out with one finger and running it down his nose, feeling a warm prickle of satisfaction when Steve smiled at that.  “Well, it is an important skill of mine,” he said, and mimed shooting a repulsor at the back of the wall.  “Pew!  Zap!”

Steve laughed, leaned forward and pressed his face to Tony’s shoulder, breathing in deeply.  “Okay, Tony,” he said, still chuckling a little.   “You have a point.”

“Of course I do,” Tony said, stroking his fingers through Steve’s hair, rubbing at the back of his neck, and smiling fondly to himself as he felt some of that tension bleeding out of Steve some more.  He shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it after the tie, then rubbed himself down against Steve’s groin.  He felt very, very warm through the fabric, and Tony could feel the thick bulge of him pressing up between Tony’s thighs, a heavy hot hard length, jerking in Steve’s pants, twitching, as Tony pressed himself down against it, rolling his hips and pressing their cocks together.  “So,” he said.  “You wanna?”

“Hmm?” Steve said, a questioning tone in his voice, dragging his head up and looking up at Tony a little dazedly, like he’d been somewhere else completely.  “What?  You wanna what?”

“Fuck, babe,” Tony said, tenderly, running his hand down the side of Steve’s face.  “You wanna fuck.”

“Oh,” Steve said, and sucked in his breath, laughed a little, catching his bottom lip between his teeth in a gesture that made Tony’s chest feel warm, trembling and soft from the inside out.  “Yeah, I do. ‘Course.” 

“Good, tiger,” Tony said, letting his voice go purring and warm and low, “because that’s exactly what I want to do.”

He pulled Steve’s shirt off over his head, and Steve cooperated nicely, raising his arms, then letting Tony push him back down to the bed with one hand.  “Scoot up,” Tony told him, after he’d dealt with Steve’s fly, and Steve bit his bottom lip, sucked on it, and obeyed, even as Tony slipped his fingers under the waistband of his pants and his briefs and dragged them both down over his legs as Steve slid up.  Steve’s dick sprang free, and he groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip as it bobbed in the air.  The head was already wet and dripping, and damn, that was hot.  Tony let Steve’s pants sit there around his knees and traced one finger down over his trembling thigh.  “Touch yourself, pumpkin,” he told him, and Steve sighed, slid one hand up and squeezed it around his dick before he started stroking himself slowly, pushing up his foreskin and rocking his hand over the head, then back down, his eyes sliding closed and one hand coming up to drape itself over his forehead.

Tony just watched him for a moment, then moved down off the end of the bed to unlace Steve’s shoes, pull them off with his socks and leave them there at the end of the bed for now. He reached up and dragged Steve’s pants off after, leaving Steve naked and groaning on the bed as he stroked his dick, rolling his hips up into it and biting his bottom lip, leaving it all slick and shining with spit, as Tony draped Steve’s clothes over his on the chair, then toed off his own shoes and sock and shimmied out of his slacks, pulled off the soft red silk panties he was wearing, too, leaving him dressed only in his shirt and undershirt, then dug the lube out of the first drawer of the nightstand and crawled back onto the bed.

“Hey there, honey,” he said, and Steve opened his eyes, smiled up at him through his bottom lip. His eyes already looked starry and blown, his hand open and slack against his ruffled hair.  Tony ran his fingertips down over Steve’s arm.  “That feeling good?”

Steve bit his lip again, nodded, looking up at him.  His cheeks were already very flushed.

“Okay, that’s good,” Tony said.  “Glad to hear it.”  He closed his hand over Steve’s, slid it up and down his huge, hot length for a few moments.  “Want me to take over?”

“Oh, sure,” Steve said, sounding breathless and eager and surprised, and shifted his hand away, let it fall open to the bed.  Tony smiled at him encouragingly and took over sliding his hand up and down over Steve, tugging gently downward on his foreskin with each pass to reveal the beautifully sticky wet flushed red tip of his cock, already messy wet with precome. Tony stroked Steve for a good few moments, keeping his eyes on his face, watching as Steve flushed ever redder, as he gasped and bit at his lips and started to moan, gripping his hands tight into the covers and rolling his hips, pushing them up into Tony’s hand.

After a while, Tony opened the lube with one hand and squirted it out onto his hand, making sure his fingertips were nice and slick with it, then reached back and ran them up and down his crack, over his asshole.  He shivered a little at the touch, already feeling hot and ready all over just from watching Steve react to the slow, teasing pace Tony had set on his cock.  He’d cleaned himself out about an hour before, figuring they might have anal sex tonight even before he’d realized the mood Steve was going to be in, because barring any sudden emergencies they had the night to go at it, not just a few stolen hours together, and he was blessing himself for that foresight now.

It didn’t take long before he was comfortable working in the tip of a finger, biting his own lip as it pushed in.  His own fingers were much slimmer than Steve’s, of course, easier to work into his asshole, though they would never do nearly as good a job of preparing him for Steve’s massive cock as Steve’s warm broad larger ones; they couldn’t, just weren’t built for it.  But they were good to start with, that was for sure, a much easier stretch to get used to at the beginning of things.  Tony hissed, sucked in his breath at feeling, at his own tightness, until he was past the ring of muscle and could feel the damp slide of the lube on his insides.

The sound had Steve’s eyes fluttering open, and he blinked up at Tony for a second and then said, “O-oh.”

“Okay?” Tony said.  He knew Steve liked it, loved it, even, when Tony rode him.  “This going to work for you?”

“Y-yeah,” Steve moaned. His eyes were dilated, and his hand tightened on his cock.  “It works fine, Tony.  But—but—”

“But what, sweetheart?” Tony managed, and it came out breathless, groaning, as he managed to finally slide his finger deeply into him.

“But can I do that?” Steve mumbled, and reached out for him.

Oh.  Tony felt that warm, tight twinge inside his chest again. He’d been thinking he’d do the work, then let Steve just slip right into him, sink inside his warm, wet, open hole, because—well, he knew Steve liked that, but yeah.  Yeah.  “Sure,” he breathed.  “Sure, yeah, sunshine, of course.”  He shifted closer to Steve, put a hand on top of his head, stroking his fingers through the tousled blond hair, and reached for the lube with the other, wet hand, squirting it into Steve’s palm as he held it up for it, coating his fingers then guiding them back to Tony’s own hole.  The touch of his big blunt fingers against Tony’s hole had him gasping, groaning. Steve just circled them around, rubbing gently for what felt like a long time, before he slipped the first one in, and Tony had to grip down hard on Steve’s shoulders to steady himself.

Steve was always so careful, unless Tony encouraged him not to be, slowly massaging him inside, opening him up until he was slick and open enough to add another finger.  Tony twisted his hips, pressed down on it, trying to remember to relax despite the way his body wanted to tense up, clench up tight on Steve’s fingers as if to push them out, and he could feel the tight ache as he tightened.  “Sorry,” he gasped, and Steve just shook his head, staring up at Tony like he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather look at, stroking Tony’s thigh gently with his hand.

“No, sweetheart, not at all,” he murmured, sounding lust drunk and hazy.  “Just see if you can relax?”

“Oh, I’m trying,” Tony muttered, reached down and stroked his hands through Steve’s hair, rolling his hips and fucking himself down on his fingers.  Eventually he felt himself loosen, not a lot, but just enough that Steve could slide them more fully into him, and he groaned as the sensitive tips slipped past his inner muscles, along his insides.  It wasn’t that it was so amazingly pleasurable, it was just—hot, having Steve inside him, knowing he could do this for Steve.

They always seemed to end up spending forever on fingering, on opening Tony up, and that day proved to be no exception.  Tony wanted to make sure he was open, so that Steve wouldn’t worry, because he would, otherwise, so he coated his own finger in lube and slide it back to push it in beside Steve’s two after a while.  It was a vivid, almost painful stretch, but it felt good, too, knowing he was doing this for Steve, working himself wide for his cock, and the way Steve gasped and swore and his cock jerked like he was about to come was pretty good, too.

After a while Tony pulled his finger out, wiping it on his thigh and making a face, and Steve smiled up at him, fond and a little hazy, sex-dazed, all flushed and beautiful, and slid a third finger of his own up into Tony’s body.  Tony sucked in a breath, had to brace himself over Steve, and let Steve curve and rub his fingers up into him, stroking gently against him inside with such gentle firmness Tony felt bad that he didn’t get off on it more, but it really did feel good.  And then his fingers were pushing in, pushing up, and stroking over his prostate, and Tony gasped, arched up, as sudden pleasure went shooting through him.  That made his own dick perk up fully, hard against his pelvis, against the bottom hem of his shirt, and Tony groaned, resisted the urge to get his hand around it so he could keep bracing himself on Steve and rolling his hips back slow and easy against his fingers so that Steve could push them in there so perfectly, so sweetly.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve murmured, voice low and sexy-rough, hitching and breathless, and he reached up to rub his fingers gently against Tony’s cock.  It felt—sweet, shivering and trembly and hot with pleasure, and Tony groaned, little pleasure-signals going off in his brain, all over, and making it hard to think.

“That’s my line, gorgeous,” he said, and drew the back of his hand down along Steve’s jaw, caressing gently until Steve pressed his hand into it, sighing, and a little more tension left his body.

“Nah,” Steve said. “Or at least, it’s only fair if it applies to both of us.”

Tony was nothing like as beautiful as Steve, in his own carefully considered opinion, but whatever; if that made Steve happy they could go with it.  “Always fair, aren’t you?” he murmured, breathless from the sensations Steve was coaxing out of his prostate and hot all over.

“I don’t know about that,” Steve muttered, though, and his eyes slid away, went dark, even as his fingers didn’t stop their sweet rhythm rubbing, massaging against Tony’s prostate, and his thumb came up to press gently against Tony’s perineum, stroke the underside of his balls, and Tony’s brain stuttered, for just a second, because, wow, wow, okay, that felt good.

“Close enough,” Tony said, firmly.  “Close enough, sunshine.”  He slid his fingers down his jaw, tilted Steve’s chin back up to look at him with gentle pressure, and held his gaze.  “You can be human, too,” he said.  “I like you human.  And if you’re not perfect all the time, that just leaves a little bit of wiggle room for the rest of us, living up to your example.”

Steve flushed, bit his lip again, but he didn’t argue, just breathed out and said, “I just hope I can make you feel good, too.”

“You always do,” Tony said, and he’d meant it to come out playful and teasing, reassuring, but instead it came out low and soft and sincere, and he felt himself flush a little at that.  Still, it made Steve’s cheeks flush a little bit darker, made his eyelashes flutter softly and a quiet moan ease out of him, so—so that was all right.  That was good.

Tony let Steve massage him inside, stretch and finger him until he was aching pleasantly with pleasure and stretch and openness and the ache in his cock and balls to come, and then he reached back, circled Steve’s wrist with his fingers and pulled it away, pushing it down until Steve rested it on his thigh again.  When he reached back and fingered at his own hole, it felt hot and wet and tingling, prickling, raw and ready and open in a good way, soft and easy when he slipped three of his own fingers inside himself.  So okay, all good, that meant he could take Steve.

Steve was rubbing his thighs, staring up at him, as if Tony was fantastic, as if Tony were beautiful, but he didn’t argue or resist as Tony got him sitting up against the headboard, slid pillows behind his back, his shoulders, then leaned in and positioned one under his head, kissing Steve’s jaw as he pulled back, just let his hands rest on Tony’s hips and rubbed along them gently, slowly.

“There you go,” Tony said, and kissed his cheek, his soft, bitten lips, and Steve sighed, breathed out through his nose, his eyes fluttering closed.  “This is going to be so good, cupcake, I promise,” Tony said, and smiled at Steve when he forced his eyes open again, smiled up at him.  “I’m going to make this so good,” Tony promised, and leaned in and pressed a soft, deep, wet kiss to Steve’s mouth.

It took him a few tries to find Steve’s hot, hard cock without looking, reach back, still kissing him, even as Steve groaned and gasped into his mouth, find his own hole and hold it open as he guided Steve up against the opening their fingers had made soft and wet. Despite all of it, it was a tight, almost painful stretch as Tony rocked his hips back, pushing Steve in, and he groaned into his mouth, feeling his muscles spreading as far as they could, stretching wide, as Steve’s fat cockhead pushed into him.  It must have felt intense for Steve, too, because he whined against Tony’s lips, shuddered under him, pushed his chest up, and his fingers bit deep and bruising into Tony’s skin, over his hips.

Even after getting a lot of practice with Steve, Tony still wasn’t the expert at opening up and taking cock, relaxing his muscles, that he’d have liked to be.  It was almost always a little painful at first, the stretch feeling like too much, the familiar strain of aching overstretched muscles.  But then Steve popped in, and there was relief, so much relief that Tony groaned almost as loudly as Steve, against Steve’s wet lips.

Okay, Steve was in. The rest of this part Tony knew how to do.  He kept his hand there, guiding Steve’s length as he pushed down on him, covering Steve’s face, his forehead, his jaw, his throat with kisses, centering himself with one hand on his chest as he worked Steve in, slowly sliding up, then back and down again, letting Steve’s width and girth and weight open him up wider, slowly opening him up for Steve’s heat, throbbing and pulsing and desperate, deep inside.  Steve had gone quiet, all whimpering little gasps and jolting stutters of his hips, whining in that soft, punched out, breathless way he did when he was really into it.  Tony stroked his hair and held the back of his neck and kept working himself down.

When Steve was finally inside of him, Tony was tingling all over, gasping at the stretch, the almost-pain of it, overwhelming and so tender-too much-sore that his dick had flagged against his thigh, but feeling a surge of triumph when he felt Steve’s balls warm against his ass.  He rolled his hips, centering himself, getting used to the feeling, the full aching breathtaking _penetration_ of having Steve so deep in there, how this position pushed him so heavily, so unforgivingly, down on Steve’s gigantic length, so hot and hard and vast and _wide_ , and Tony didn’t understand how it was fair for Steve to be so long and also so damn thick, throbbing inside of Tony so hot and so hard.  It was a damn sexy feeling, even when it just felt like stretch and too much and overwhelming _fullness_ rather than pleasure (and yeah, better whenever that hot length pushed against his prostate even more than the just general buzz Tony got from the fullness, slid against it and made everything light up for a few seconds, but the main draw of it was that overwhelming tightness that he felt fluttering in his belly, making his abs tremble and his whole body want to squeeze Steve tight inside him just to make it better for him, even if it hurt).

“Okay,” Tony said again, and then, because it bore repeating, “I’m going to make this so good for you,” because he was.

Steve just groaned, his mouth hanging open and eyes shut tight, hands clutching at Tony’s ass as he leaned into him, and he just moaned, “Please, Tony,” and that was it, Tony was gone, he could no more have resisted that broken shuddering plea than he could have flown up to space without a suit and circled the sun a few times for the hell of it.  He started to move, sliding himself up and down on Steve’s cock and throwing his hips into a rolling, circling motion while he was at it, speeding up once he was sure he’d gotten the trick of it, until he was rocking himself up and back, almost slamming Steve down to the root inside of him, each time trying to keep back his own moan of overwhelmed sensation as that huge cock rocked and slid and pounded up inside of him.  Steve was moaning, whimpering, making the most gorgeous little pleading noises, and finally Tony leaned in, gripped Steve’s neck with his fingers firm on his nape, and just started kissing him, biting his lower lip, sucking on it and then the top one, moaning into his mouth and drinking down Steve’s own moans in return.  He didn’t need his other hand to steady Steve inside him now he had the rhythm, so he brought that hand up and caressed Steve’s chest, played at his sensitive nipple, stroked his trembling abs, then slid his arm around Steve’s shoulders and just held him, stroking his hair as Steve panted and groaned and rubbed his face on Tony’s shoulder and panted into his shirt, riding him the best way he knew how until Steve gasped and made the most helpless, soft, incredible noise and Tony knew he was coming, could feel him shuddering and shaking and pulsing inside of him, leaving him wet and messy inside.

Steve went slack against him, limp and gasping, his hands sliding down Tony’s thighs and falling to the bed.  Tony kept moving until Steve was moaning, hand gripping spasmodically at Tony’s ankle like he needed to hang onto something to steady himself, and then just let himself sink down, go still, cradled in the vee of Steve’s thighs, still stroking his hair, then sliding his hands down to rub at the back of Steve’s neck, push into his shoulders and massage them gently, gripping handfuls of tight muscle and smoothing his hands down until he felt the tension start to loosen and release.

It didn’t take long at all before Tony felt Steve starting to harden inside him again, heard him whine and moan against him.

“O-oh,” Steve said, shuddering, as Tony started to roll his hips over him again. “I—I—but what about you, you haven’t—yet, you—”

“There’ll be time for me after this,” Tony told him.  The heavy ache, the drag and fullness and wet, was making his cock hard again, so that he could feel it bobbing under his shirt.  The fabric felt sweaty, sticking to his back and chest and nipples.  “I’ll probably only come once, after all.  Just let me make you feel good, champ.”

“O-okay,” Steve breathed, and pressed his face in against Tony’s shoulder again, against his neck, taking deep breaths even as he pressed his hands down over Tony’s hips, filled them with big handfuls of his ass.

Tony rode Steve with slow, rocking, gentle motions of his hips this time, well aware of and careful of his sensitivity, stroking his hands up and down his bare back, a slow sensual massage while he tried to clench his muscles inside, make them squeeze around Steve’s cock and give him a different kind of massage.  It took longer this time, and it was a slower, sweeter time of it, rocking himself over Steve and working him up slowly until Steve moaned and came with a wet, hitching gasp and a little shudder of Tony’s name, clutching tight at his back and pressing up into Tony.

“Good boy, coming for me again,” Tony told him, petting the side of his face with one sweaty hand, stroking his hair, and Steve smiled, flushed and bit down on his lip again, his face soft.  He looked happy, face relaxed and lips parted, glowing at Tony’s touch as he caressed his face, pushed tangled hair back out of his eyes.  “Now maybe you can get your hand on me and stroke my cock, get me to come, huh?”  It was a secret turn-on of his, feeling Steve’s cock still so big and hot inside him, just starting to soften, while Steve got his hand on him, stroked him until he came, the pleasure shivering through him while he was still stretched so wide around Steve, but Steve not moving, not seeking his own pleasure—it was less overwhelming that way, just let Tony luxuriate in the ache and fullness and heavy heat.  It felt good, that hot heavy fullness, like something Tony had never imagined he could take, always made him feel a glow of satisfaction as he let himself rock back onto it, feeling the overwhelming stretch and drag, into Steve’s hand, warm and perfect and dragging so much pleasure out of him, just the way Tony liked. 

Steve reached for Tony’s cock, fumbling for it eagerly, stroking him with an adorable, touching willingness, looking up into Tony’s face as if to be certain he was doing it right, making him feel good, with every stroke, squeezing gently and rocking his thumb up over the head just the way that always made Tony feel so good. Tony found praise, endearments, soft and sappy, just spilling out of his mouth as Steve’s big, warm hand enfolded him, stroked him, sliding up and down, rocking on his big, heavy cock, and eventually his orgasm stole up and washed over him, leaving him shaking, bracing himself against Steve and gasping for air.  When he came back to himself, Steve was stroking his back through his shirt, and Tony could feel come leaking messily out of him, around Steve’s softening cock, over his balls and his thighs and onto the bed.  Steve had his hand up over his face again, panting, his big warm hand wet with come and flat on Tony’s belly under the shirt.

“I love you,” Tony murmured, pressing his lips soft and desperate to Steve’s forehead, and watched his face crumple, his lips tremble as he dragged in helpless breaths.

“Oh, Tony,” Steve said. “You too.  You too, I love you so much.  Oh.”  And he bit down hard on his bottom lip.

Tony stroked his face, his trembling jaw, clenched far too hard, his hot cheeks, then slid himself off of Steve (with a wince at the deep, penetrating drag of it, the wetness that dripped out of him and down his thighs immediately, the spasming raw heat of his hole, sensitive as Steve slid out over it), grabbed some of the tissues beside the bed to wipe up the worst of the mess, over Steve’s cock and between his own legs, up his crack, then pushed Steve over onto his stomach, dragging the pillows down and shoving them under his chest and head.  He straddled him, then, his wide, sturdy torso, gripping with his knees and ignoring the trembling ache of overused muscles in his own thighs, and running his hands up and down his spine, working them up to grip and start massaging the back of his neck, down over his shoulders.  Steve was crying, and Tony knew it, could see the way his shoulders shook; for all that Steve loved it, he was incredibly sensitive to the sensations, the feelings, of sex, too.  He got overwhelmed sometimes after orgasm, but it was better if Tony didn’t watch, didn’t make Steve feel exposed and stripped raw and weak and humiliated.  He knew all about that, how that felt, and the last thing he wanted was for Steve to feel naked and raw and awful in front of him.

He only wanted Steve to feel naked in the best ways.  So instead he massaged Steve’s rock-hard, tense back and shoulders until his hands were cramping and Steve was half asleep and slumped soft into the blankets, and then slid down beside him and reached up to frame Steve’s face with his hand, tilting his head back just enough to press soft kisses against each of his eyelids.

“Did you feel okay, sunshine?” he murmured.  “Was that good?”

Steve smiled, beaming despite his hot, flushed, messy face, tilted his head down to press a kiss into Tony’s palm. “It was so good, Shellhead,” he mumbled. “I feel so good.  Thank you so much.” 

“Good,” Tony said, that warm glow of pleasure lighting him up inside again.  Steve was warm and flushed, and the smile was that same one, the one Tony liked to see on his face so much, warm and soft with pleasure and happy. Tears and all, it had worked—it had made Steve happy, it had, and he must have needed that release.  Tony had been good for him.  “Good.  I could go for some Italian, how about you?  Order it in.  I know that good place that does delivery.”

“Hell, yeah,” Steve mumbled. “I could murder a bowl of pasta.”

And Tony laughed and kissed his sweaty forehead, smoothing a lingering smear of wet tears away from the side of Steve’s eye, stroked his hair, and then covered him with a blanket and went to find a phone and make it happen, never taking his eyes off Steve, curled up in the bed all lax and loose and sated, arms wrapped around a pillow, in the middle of his bed, before Tony stripped off his shirt and came back with a wet cloth and curled around him, cleaning him up and smoothing his hand over his skin and just holding him until the food got there.


End file.
